Every time I take a long road trip, and I mean every single time, I think of my high school Driver’s Education teacher, Mr. Brown.
Mr. Brown was from Mississippi, and couldn’t pronounce his Rs. He was a tad difficult to understand. Lucky for us, he spoke with a sloooow southern drawl, so we had plenty of time to figure out what he was trying to tell us.
One of the exercises he had us do, during our on-the-road classes, was to change lanes without hitting the reflectors that ran between the lanes… the ‘fump, fumps” he called them.
That’s why road trips take me down memory lane. I still try to stealthily veer around the “fump, fumps.” It’s one of the very few maneuvers I managed to master during Driver’s Ed. Which was good, because I was the first student who ever received an F in backing up.
We were supposed to navigate through a dog-leg course, in reverse. Mr. Brown made me abandon my car when I ran over one of the course traffic cones and got it irretrievably stuck up in a rear wheel well.
“Jus’ get outta da caw!”
The only thing that saved me from failing the class entirely was that I was the only student in my class who could parallel park. And, I did it like a boss. None of this multiple attempts parking, I mean I could tuck my car into that tiny space, first try, every time… still can. It was like I entered a self-transcendent state of ecstasy, my moment of zen.
I was the parking space…
I may not be able to drive backwards through a narrow zig-zag shaped alley, but if you have to park on the street, or deftly avoid small plastic objects stuck on the road, I’m your go-to gal.*I’m on a road trip with my little dog, Asta, to meet with an orthopedic vet at Auburn University. The pin in her injured leg had begun to migrate down and the pointed tip was irritating the back side of her knee. The doc removed the pin and order 4-weeks of complete bed rest for Asta. No more activity than when she needs to use the bathroom, walking outside, on a leash and only as many steps as necessary, and eating. I’m supposed to crate her to restrict her movements, but that is not going to be possible. Since, I’m home during the day, I think I can keep her still enough to avoid having to put her in doggy solitary. We’ll see how it goes. Hopefully, with limited movement, the bone will mend completely and she won’t require any more invasive surgery – either a screw in the bone to secure it, or a plate on her hip and femur. Fingers crossed for us both.